Three Things that The Powers That Be will Never Allow on Smallville
Lionel woke up to find himself on a deserted island, wearing nothing but rags. Twenty feet away was a dark-haired girl wearing pink, lying face down. What the devil was the name of that inconsequential creature, he thought. Llama? Banana? Lambda?
He got to his feet and saw the wreckage of his corporate jet. He roared with anger at the situation. Why, it could take weeks for Lex's people to find him . . . if Lex bothered to do a decent search.
"Oh, no, we've been abandoned," whimpered his fellow castaway as she got to her feet and stood next to him.
"How did you get on my plane?" said Lionel.
"I won that charity lottery," she said. "The prize was a trip to the Caribbean on your jet."
He frowned. Something was wrong, deeply wrong but he couldn't figure out what. He personally didn't remember participating in some charity event though he wouldn't put it past Lex setting him up.
As days passed with no sign of rescuers, he set up shelter and gathered food. The emphasis was he, considering that Lana was positively useless and only seemed to exist to complain about the fact that the shelter wasn't perfect and that the food was hard to digest. There was also the fact that while she whispered almost everything she had to say, at night, she snored like a buzz saw. After a week, she began swearing that she was being stalked by an angry horse and claiming she could hear it whinny in the middle of the night. After looking all over the island for any sign for the horse called Stompy and finding no sign of said horse, not even a horse dropping; Lionel could only come to the conclusion that Lana was suffering from stalking withdrawal.
Lionel found the idea of spending months on end on the island with Lana intolerable. He started making a raft while Lana continually pestered him to feed her. For some reason, the phrase "cows don't feed themselves" floated into his mind. Once he had finished his raft and decided to take a nap only to be awakened by the sight of Lana running around in circles in a panic because it had caught on fire. "Oopsie-booboo," said Lana, smiling in embarrassment. "I was trying to make myself some hot coconut milk to drink."
It wasn't like he hadn't tried to kill her. Poison berries, arranging fatal encounters with the various wildlife on the island and bumping her off the edge of a cliff. She would disappear or appear to have died for the rest of the day only to appear the next morning, unaware that he had tried to kill her. It was absolutely maddening. He wondered whether he had been stranded on some island in the middle of the Bermuda Triangle that all those time-space anomalies people kept talking about. One day, he finally lost it and swam into the open sea. He cut his leg with a sharp stick to release his blood in the water and screamed with pleasure as the sharks, attracted by the blood, ate him to death.
He opened his eyes and found himself back on the beach, completely unhurt except for sunburns and slight malnutrition. "What is going on!" he screamed at the sky, which promptly started to rain cheese and anvils.
Lex and Clark smiled at the image on the monitor. The virtual reality that had Lionel trapped in its program with the help of some Kryptonite (which has oh so many uses that it boggles the mind) had been running for a week and seemed in no danger of crashing. "Clark, this makes up for everything that's ever happened between us. Best birthday present ever," said Lex with tears in his eyes.
Lana's parents talked to Dr. Foster as they watched their daughter sit in a padded cell from behind a one-way mirror. She was nodding and smiling to herself, whispering nonsensical phrases like "I don't know what to say to that" or "It's happening!" Mr. Lang turned to Dr. Foster. "What exactly is wrong with her?"
"I'm sorry but her mind's trapped in its own private world. She is truly one of the most delusional patients I've ever seen. According to her, you two are dead."
"Dead? I'm dead?" said Mr. Lang.
"Yes, she believes that both you and your wife died when she was three, killed by a stray meteorite and was put on the cover of Time magazine because of that tragedy. She lived with an imaginary Aunt Nell then moved in with Chloe Sullivan, her best friend."
Mr. Lang sighed, "She has never forgiven me for selling her pony Meteor when she was small. Talk about carrying a grudge."
"Chloe Sullivan?" said Mrs. Lang
"That's Lois Lane's real name," stated Dr. Foster. "In Lana's mind, she still lives in Smallville where she is friends with Lex Luthor, Clark Kent and Pete Ross."
Mrs. Lang frowned. "She believes she's friends with the President, the First Gentleman, and the Vice President? And she lives with the number one reporter of Metropolis?"
"Wow, talk about delusional," sighed Mr. Lang. "Can't believe she has me dead."
"What about her crying and screaming during the night?" said Mrs. Lang.
"Oh, in her fantasy world, she is all important so it's a given that every available man wants her. When her mood swings from mania to deep depression, the imaginary relationships start wonderfully then start to degenerate into paranoia fueled visions of violence. She appears to have the weirdest fixation on Clark Kent, where he's her most ardent admirer but the person most out of reach. She also believes he has magic powers."
"Yes, the Secret Service stopped by because they were tired of the way she kept writing Mr. Kent letters asking when he was going to marry her," said Mrs. Lang. "Why is her padded cell pink?"
Dr. Foster shrugged. "It calms her down and makes her happy. Do you happen to know what triggered this particular mental collapse?"
Mr. Lang sighed. "I believe it's when her ex-boyfriend Whitney Fordman, heir to the Fordman fortune, dumped her and declared his engagement to Adam Knight, Gotham socialite."
"So how was I?" said Lana Lang, dressed in a bubble gum pink dress with matching headband topped off with a powder blue sweater. She was holding a microphone and awaited the praise the judges were sure to give her.
Paula just stared at her with her mouth open, unable to say anything remotely nice. Randy hid behind a piece of paper, unable to look at that much pink.
Simon let her have it with double barrels. "That was absolutely ghastly. You can't sing, you can't dance and from your outfit, you can't dress yourself either."
"I wasn't perfect?" she said.
"If I were to let you sing any more on this show, never mind sign you for a record, I would be put on trial for crimes against humanity at the Hague," snapped Simon.
Chloe smiled as she watched the episode where they showcased the worst auditions. This was her best idea ever to get Lana audition for American Idol in Metropolis.
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